


Lightning Will Keep You

by DanceOfTheEntWives



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Happy Ending, Lightly angsty, M/M, Partial Mind Control, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, kinda at least - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanceOfTheEntWives/pseuds/DanceOfTheEntWives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My gift to InnerCinema for the WinterIron Holiday Exchange.<br/>In a world ruled by the latest clockwork inventions, Bucky has to entrust the repair of his hated arm to a man he's never met before. With only Steve's word of honor as a guarantee, how will this meeting turn out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightning Will Keep You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InnerCinema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerCinema/gifts).



> As mentioned in the summary, this is my gift to InnerCinema. They gave me a couple of DON'T s but besides that I had free reign. This is what it ended up as and I hope they'll enjoy it. The person who was kind enough to beta this fic is Valmasy, for which I have an enormous amount of gratitude.

The sky was always grey in the city. The smoke from the many chimneys belonging to the factories ensured that. It was one of the things he didn't miss when he was away during the war. Nor ... afterwards. Now he was back among the many buildings which were just as grey as the sky and the working people while it felt as if everything around him had changed, Bucky knew that it was really him whom had changed.

His hair, once short, now had its purpose as some sort of shield between him and the people around him. His posture used to be relaxed, yet tall, and he had been used to catching the eyes of dames from time to time. This had changed into a tense disposition where he tried to escape everyone's notice. Or, if it wasn't possible to escape their barest gaze, to at least make sure that no particular notice was given to his left arm which was hidden underneath his coat's sleeve.

It was that damn arm's fault that he was even walking among the different types of grey. Upon his capture by the enemy during the war, his arm had been considered a loss and those sick bastards had replaced it with some clockwork oddity. Of course, this had taken place only after they had put some device, which could've come from hell itself, in his brain which left him barely anything more than a living breathing puppet. When he had finally been able to break free from the devices grasp and returned to his own side in the war, the presence of both the device and the arm had been the proof that his deeds hadn't been of his own choice.

Luckily, they had believed him. That or his information about the enemy's resources had been useful enough to them. Soon after his return the device had been removed but the arm was deemed an 'advantage' in the war, which ended shortly afterwards anyway. It didn't seem an advantage to him. The constant ticking of the machinery drove him practically insane. It kept him awake at night reminding him of the terrible deeds that had been performed with that awful piece of machinery. He thought it couldn't get worse than that. ... And then it had gotten worse. The ticking had stopped, as had the arm, the sudden silence at night was bad enough but the absence of the ticking brought with it the immobility of the arm as well. It had turned into a useless piece of metal and until that had happened Bucky hadn't been aware exactly how used he had been to its service.

So now he was trekking through the city, once so well known and now so alien, to go and see an acquaintance of his best friend Steve. Normally he wouldn't want anyone to even witness the thing that replaced his arm, but with the way things were, he had no choice.

At least this guy had Stevie's stamp of approval. It was the only reason he was even willing to give the guy a shot. Steve had practically been his brother for as long as Bucky could remember and the only person Bucky could trust to have his best interests at heart. It was the fact that Steve vouched for his innocence that had the higher-ups even willing to listen to Bucky's story instead of executing him on the spot upon his return from the enemy's camp.

So if Steve said he could trust this 'Tony Stark', then Bucky would give it a shot. At the first sign of trouble he'd leave and find someone to simply tear the useless lump of metal apart. No use dragging dead weight along. Though, the thought of having nothing but a stump where a functioning arm used to be gave him chills.

Without Steve's suggestion of going to Stark, Bucky would never have even thought of going to the guy for this. Stark was a big name in the city, one of the biggest inventors and producers of machinery. His family used to deal in weapons, but shortly before the beginning of the war, Stark himself had put an end to that part of his business. No one knew why exactly, and the man had gotten a lot of flack from the newspapers, army, and politicians for refusing to return to fabricating weapons when the war got more and more serious. To calm the situation down, Stark had compromised by creating all sorts of defenses for the soldiers instead. Shields, alarm systems, protective gear, etc.

The dispute created by those warmongers hadn't been the only talk on the street about Stark, though. Rumor had it on the streets that suspicious things were going on in that manor of his. The staff themselves were too loyal to say a thing, but the staff from surrounding places whispered of blue lightning and the sound of thunderstorms coming from the manor deep in the night. Bucky wasn't so sure about the truth of those rumors, but could see how they could terrify the people. The tale told in the book "Frankenstein" was being told along with the rumors after all. As if Stark was trying to replicate what the scientist in the tale had done. Besides, the people who told that tale quite conveniently left out some of the key parts of the story, particularly the sadness and humanity the creature possessed. Bucky had read the book sometime before the war and by now he could sympathize with the creature, he himself had been made into a monster as well.

That thought made him halt in the streets, ignoring the people grumbling as they now had to make their way around him. Would Stark turn him into a puppet again? Could he even do that? The way everyone talked about him and his inventions there hardly seemed to be anything that man couldn't do. Then Steve came to mind again and Bucky shook himself out of this sudden feeling of apprehension and even fear. There was no way Steve, who was the epitome of integrity and kindness, would ever associate himself with someone who would do such a thing.

Having gotten over that sudden panic, Bucky set out to continue his travel, only to realize upon looking at his surroundings that he had arrived at the manor already. Despite his determination only seconds before, he couldn't suppress the slight amount of dread that rose up within his chest. However he fought through it and banged the big knocker that hung on the door. After a small amount of waiting, the door opened and a middle aged man dressed in the uniform of a butler stood before him. Despite his serious demeanor there hung a aura of kindness around the butler.

"Yes? Can I help you?" The politeness in the butler's voice wasn't faked either. Something that couldn't be said of most butlers in households such as this one. They usually considered themselves high above regular folks such as Bucky.

"I am a friend of one of Mister Stark's associates. Steve Rogers sent me saying that your employer is the best person to help me with a certain ... issue."

"Ah yes, Sergeant Barnes, I do believe. My name is Jarvis, head of the household. Do come in, please. Sir is expecting you. Do you wish to wait for him in the lounge or would you prefer to go to the workshop immediately?"

Bucky didn't know what made him freeze exactly. The use of his army title or the idea of heading into that house to either wait in some overly luxurious lounge where he'd be afraid to touch anything or to walk into what could be all of his nightmares come true. Jarvis seemed a very good butler as he immediately noticed the discomfort and seemed to guess what it was about.

"Sir has spoken of you with Captain Rogers and seemed rather excited at the prospect of helping you out. He was very angry at the army for not calling on him immediately to help with the removal of those previous issues you are relieved of by now," Jarvis mentioned carefully while gesturing for Bucky to enter the house.

"Please, won't you come in? Sir would probably forget to breathe if that was possible, so it might be best to meet up with him. Though, the lounge would be more comfortable to wait if you preferred that. It is rather cold outside and the hearth is burning nicely."

Bucky finally found his voice again."No. No, if you think it might be best to meet up with him, then I'll follow that advice. You know him better than I do."

Their walk through the halls of the manor happened in silence. Yet, it didn't seem forced or uncomfortable. When finally they reached a door that seemed to lead to the basement Jarvis knocked which caused a panel on the left side of the door to open up. In the gap the panel was hiding, there lied some sort of puzzle. Small metal squares with lines gouged into them. Jarvis seemed to be able to see what had to be formed and quickly moved the squares around until it formed ... nothing Bucky could recognize. However, it did seem to be the right solution as the door opened up for them.

The doorway led to a staircase which was lit up by torches on either side. However, these weren't any sort of torches Bucky had seen before. The regular candles and gas-lit lamps were commonplace these days, but whatever hung here wasn't anything like those. The light it gave off wasn't the soft, warm yellow of a candle, nor the slightly brighter and colder light of a gas lamp. This light was blue and it was hard to call it either warm or cold.

By the time Bucky stopped inspecting the lights, they had reached the end of the stairs and arrived in an open area filled with clanging noises and loud music which echoed against the walls creating a sort of haunting effect. Jarvis took a quick look around at the different tables and machinery that were scattered everywhere and then started walking in a certain direction without hesitation.

Bucky could think of nothing else but to follow the butler. This turned out to be the right decision as he suddenly saw someone hammering a sheet of metal against an anvil into a confusing shape. With no one else around, Bucky that man had to be Stark.

A gramophone was the source of the music, tabled close to the anvil and

furnace. Now that he stood nearer to it Bucky could hear it better and realized it wasn't some kind of opera or other type of music fitting for a man of Stark's class. It sounded as if someone had recorded the most rowdy drinking songs in a pub at the docks. He honestly wasn't expecting to hear " _Ale for All and All for Ale_ " in a well-to-do manor.

Then, suddenly the music stopped and, when Bucky looked to see what had caused the abrupt silence, he saw Jarvis who had removed the needle from its place on the record.

"What the hell Jarvis! That was the best part!" Apparently the lack of music had been able to draw Stark's focus away from his work. What that work was, or what that metal was supposed to be, Bucky still wasn't able to say. But at least they had his attention now. Or rather, the butler did.

Stark had turned towards the gramophone, showing his back to Bucky. And what a back it was. With the man bent over his anvil, it hadn't been obvious, but he had a physique rather unusual for people in his class of wealth. His arms were well defined and the white undershirt he wore couldn't hide his slender waist. He wasn't tall of stature, but the energy that seemed to carry through his every action more than made up for it.

"I do apologize, sir, but Sergeant Barnes has arrived," Jarvis replied mildly.

"He has? Then, what are you waiting for? Bring the man here, Jarvis. I can't work with him in the lounge!"

"I have already done so sir." And here, Jarvis leisurely gestured towards Bucky which resulted in Stark turning around in a flash.

Oh but that wasn't fair, Bucky lamented. Stark had deep brown eyes and such an anticipative look on his face. He gazed at Bucky as if he was the most captivating thing on earth. It was such a powerful expression, it kept Bucky from noticing Stark's chest for a moment. Or rather, not his chest, but what was encased in it. In the middle of his ribcage there was a blue luminous circle shining through his undershirt. Bucky immediately recognized it as being the same type of light that shone from these torches in the staircase. The same torches were spread around the gigantic room they were in.

Stark must have noticed his gaze, because the enthusiasm in his face dimmed a bit. Yet, he still sounded kind when he addressed the veteran before him.

"Barnes then! You made it I see, but still wearing your coat? Since I haven't invented something to see through clothes, yet, you'll have to remove that. If you're wearing something else that has sleeves which cover up that arm of yours then I'm afraid that'll have to be removed as well."

"Not mine," Bucky mumbled to himself while removing his coat and other layers that covered up the abomination. When he got stuck on his undershirt Jarvis quickly appeared at his side to help him without making him feel like an invalid. Apparently, his voice had been louder than intended for Stark asked him to repeat himself. Looking away in discomfort Bucky repeated himself, this time a bit more loudly: "The arm. It's not mine. It's theirs and has never felt as if it belonged to me since they put it there."

That gave Stark pause. He had been heading to a table with a chair placed next to it, but halted when Bucky had expressed his displeasure with the clockwork arm Hydra had put on him. He turned around and threw a curious glance at Bucky as he leaned his hip against the table he was standing next to.

There were a lot of different tables around the room, all of which bore different objects and instruments, none of which seemed the slightest bit familiar to Bucky. Before he'd been a guinea pig for Hydra, he would have been intrigued. Now, however, all he could think about when looking at those things was how they could potentially harm, or even worse, control him.

After having pondered upon unknown things for a few moments while gazing at a self-conscious Bucky, Stark spoke up again and his words were a surprise.

"Then, I guess that gives you a choice. Do you want me to repair the arm and while doing that check it over for potentially harmful parts? Or would you prefer I create you something else entirely?"

"How would that help me in making this arm mine again?"Bucky puzzled.

"Well if you choose the first option, then removing any potentially harmful additions to the arm could give you more confidence in the fact that it is indeed under your control and no one else's. Besides that, I could try and show you how the arm works. Understanding it could help you accept its presence and uses." He pushed himself away from the table and approached Bucky with a considering look in his gaze as it rested on the lifeless lump of metal at Bucky's left side.

"The second option would mean that I replace this piece of mediocre clockwork with one of my own inventions. You would be as involved in the work as you wish to be. I can't guarantee you'll understand the entire process and how it works, but I would explain it as much as possible to you. You would have a certain amount of input as well. I could put extra abilities into the machinery but which ones exactly would be up to you. Those are the two options, so the choice is up to you."

Bucky couldn't believe he had a choice in this. Even upon his return to the army, he hadn't exactly been allowed to make the decisions about his arm and the other device. There had been orders and he followed them as was expected. To refuse would've given them the idea that he might have switched sides instead of having been taken prisoner and experimented on.

This was the first time someone had asked him what he wanted to be done about this thing that replaced his arm. It had him stumped. What was he supposed to choose? While he got more and more shaken up the silence created by his lack of an answer was broken by Stark once more.

"However, given the amount of time it would take to build something new entirely, you might want to combine the two options. Today could be spent repairing the arm you have already while taking out anything suspicious. I'll try to give you a simple rundown on how it works and all. Then, we can discuss a following appointment to work on a new arm, and so on and so on until the replacement is done."

That simplified the matter for Bucky and feeling relieved, he immediately agreed to the suggestion Stark just made. Jarvis brought a second chair to join the one already present at the aforementioned table and the two dark haired men took their seats opposite each other. Tony talked about the clockwork inside the metal arm and how exactly it worked to make certain movements and gestures. While doing that, he solved the current issue. One of the screws from a component had come partly loose and poked into another, much more sensitive, component. By the time Tony - why was it so hard to keep calling him Stark inside Bucky's head- had completely checked the apparatus and even removed some suspicious stuff that hadn't seemed to serve any specific purpose, it was already late. Jarvis had returned, Tony hadn't even noticed his departure probably and gave mention of the lateness of the hour.

At hearing the time, Bucky moved to put on all his clothes again. This went a great deal easier with his fixed left arm. Yet, when he took his coat, he was interrupted by Tony.

"Don't tell me you're going to walk all the way back at this hour?"

"What else do you expect me to do, Mister Stark?"

"Don't mister me, just call me Tony. And you should stay. There are plenty of rooms here to chose from and tomorrow Happy, my coachman, will drive you back to your own residence."

When Bucky stayed silent while thinking about the offer Tony continued.

"I know your part of town isn't the worst, but even there thieves and cutthroats appear at night. Things have gone downwards over here, as well with that damn war, Barnes."

"I could take them," Bucky said affronted that the other man would consider him a potential victim for mere robbers.

"Of that I have no doubt. However, if something were to happen, who knows if those military ass-clowns might not put a spin on it just to get their greedy claws in you again. You just got out of a war, Barnes. Don't give them a reason to redraw you."

And how could Bucky argue with that? It was true that, despite his 'retirement', the higher ups still put out feelers often enough to watch for potential slip-ups. He was a rather useful weapon, one they would love to make use of again and again. It was only thanks to Steve that he got out in the first place.

"James," Bucky finally said.

"What?" Tony's nose scrunched up in confusion.

"Call me James or Bucky if you want. If I'm supposed to consider you on first name base than you should return the favor." Bucky shrugged

Stark seemed relieved and slightly surprised to hear the request. "So you'll stay?"

Bucky nodded and was shown to a room by Jarvis. The butler had asked his master if he wouldn't join them upstairs and then scowled slightly when the man shot the offer down saying he had more work left to do.

So now here Bucky was, lying in an incredibly large and soft bed in a luxurious room. Quite honestly, he wasn't at ease, to such surroundings as he was. The unease grew as Bucky kept tossing and turning, even less able to fall asleep than he was when his arm was broken. The arm wasn't the cause this time as its ticking had returned. Though, the sound had changed. It seemed softer, less threatening. Instead of a promise of potential harm, it now seemed to pledge itself to Bucky's use with every tick.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and left the room to try and find something to keep himself busy. A kitchen perhaps, or a library. Anything to tire his mind out enough to finally be able to sleep. He thought about returning to the basement to see if Tony was still working, but then he remembered the panel with the puzzle, which he didn't know the answer to. He decided to stick to the ground floor of the manor. Less chance of accidentally ending up in someone's bedroom that way. After cracking open a couple of doors and taking a look at the rooms behind them, he finally ended up in one of the places he was looking for. The library.

He wasn't the first one there. The fireplace was lit and Tony sat in one of the winged chairs near the hearth. He had donned a shirt, but had left it mostly unbuttoned so the strange blue light shone through. Bucky's presence hadn't been noticed yet so he knocked on the door, despite it being open already, and watched Tony startle out of thought.

"James! Everything okay, with the room and all?"

"The room is great. Nothing I'm used to, but still great."

"What brings you here then?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, I know how that is like. Thoughts keep running through your mind, feelings jump up at you when you least expect them. It sucks." Bucky couldn't disagree with that so he just nodded and slowly crossed the room to sit in the chair next to Tony.

"It's the nightmares that are the worst though, aren't they?" Tony asked, and didn't that startle Bucky? He couldn't stop staring at Tony after those words had left his mouth. He hadn't even told Steve about the nightmares. How could Tony have known of them.

"No? Oh, guess that's just me then. You can ignore what I just said, okay?" But Bucky couldn't ignore it. If Tony was willing enough to talk about his issues, perhaps he could too? He would sometimes talk to Steve, but his friend didn't quite understand as he hadn't gone through anything like what Bucky had. His friend had seen war and all, but being captured and used by the enemy as if you were just a handy tool instead of a human being was nowhere near the captain's experiences. Next to him sat a person who might understand it, perhaps only a little bit but that would still be a bigger amount than anyone else in his circle of acquaintances. However, his silence seemed to have scared Tony off the topic.

"The worst are those that aren't real nightmares at all, but memories that have changed just the littlest bit that it makes them turn for the worst. For instance being unable to stop yourself from killing someone under order from those monsters and then when they're dead you look at their faces and see people you care about. Steve, army comrades, even family sometimes."

He didn't dare look at Tony's expression, just kept his eyes focused the burning fire. However, that didn't mean he couldn't feel Tony's eyes upon him.

"Yes, I'm familiar with those kinds of dreams. Around the same level of suck as those dreams that have you doubting which is reality and which is the dream." Tony murmured.

The two made eye contact and found a sense of understanding in each other's gaze.

"I feel at a disadvantage here." Bucky watched Tony "Your comments since my arrival here made it clear that you're well informed about what was done to me. Yet, here I am completely unaware of your situation."

At that some apprehension appeared on Tony's face, but he sighed and it was gone again.

"About three years ago, shortly before the war I found out one of my most trusted confidantes, a partner in my business though his name wasn't joined to it, was double dealing with countries looking to attack us. I tried to put a stop to it but he attacked me and put a device in my chest. It was set to destruct anytime Stane, the traitor, commanded it to. He threatened to kill me if I didn't make even more weapons for him to sell to both friend and enemy. He even went as far as to lock me away somewhere in some sort of attic, lying to everyone of my whereabouts. Some people didn't believe him of course, but there wasn't anything they could do."

Tony rubbed a hand over his face and crossed his arms over his chest. He had done it before in the basement, but this was the first time Bucky noticed the way that position caused his arms to cover the blue light, as if to protect it. Was that the device? Why was it still present then? He shook the questions out of his mind to listen to the rest of the story.

"The biggest mistake he made with the whole locking-me-up-and-forcing-me-to-build-stuff thing was that he didn't expect me to find something to counter the bomb he'd put in my chest. Which of course I did. It's as if he didn't even know me. Thinking back to some research my father had declared impossible when I was a child I succeeded in the very thing he attempted. I can harvest lightning and convert it into useful energy. Using that energy and letting it run near that bastard's device makes it unresponsive. The problem with that is that once the lightning gets run down the device might be responsive again. Which means I have to hold a certain amount of harvested lightning in this hole in my chest. Who knows if Stane put in a fail-safe that makes it so the device would one day destruct on its own."

"It can't be removed?"

"I discussed it with some of the best and most trustworthy doctors in the world, the operation would most likely kill me."

"So the blue light?"

"It's basically what keeps me alive."

"What happened to the traitor?"

"I noticed the energy of the lightning could be used for other things besides keeping me alive. He tried to mess with that potential without listening to my warnings. He paid for it in the end."

Unconsciously, Tony was rubbing the glass circle holding back the blue light. Bucky didn't mention it, but felt the need to touch it himself. Would it feel warm or cold to the touch? Would it beat like a heart? He flexed his finger but kept them to himself. Tony continued his account.

"After he was gone, I did what I wanted to do for a long while. Turned my back on the whole weapon business. Shortly afterwards, the war started and I pacified those ass-clowns by delivering every possible defense to the soldiers fighting their battles. It's how I met your friend Captain Rogers. When he asked for some extra protective gear for his team who were going into covert operations, I couldn't refuse him. He was so damn earnest." He seemed to be confused about it still. That was normal with Steve. He was rather intense about things he believed in.

"He does that, yeah."

They smiled at each other. Both their situations had been atrocious, but at least there were some bright points in their lives. They spent the rest of the night talking. Tony said that he wanted Bucky to recuperate his left arm, turn it into something he could truly call his own. The inventor vouched he'd help with that anyway he could.

A strong bond was created that night. Over the time it took to build a different clockwork arm, combined with lightning technology to give it more potential defense, they grew closer, and it often happened that Bucky stayed over. In the beginning he slept in that same room he was shown to on the first night, but as time passed he shared a bed with Tony instead. Those were the times neither of them had nightmares. Though, if that was because of the other's presence, or because of the rather 'vigorous' activity they'd partake in before sleeping, who could say? It was probably a bit of both.


End file.
